


Mountain/Star

by Auber_Gine_Dreams



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Developing Relationship, Historical Setting with Liberties, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, The liberties being I didn't want to write long dark hair on everyone, Wet & Messy, You can fall in love with your husband actually, strangers to husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26954473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auber_Gine_Dreams/pseuds/Auber_Gine_Dreams
Summary: When it is all over, he is led to the room he will share with his mate. San is with his parents, some last minute formality his Kingdom demands that he must take care of. Later, Seonghwa will have to kiss him. Later, he will have to do so many things. For now, his attendants undress him and leave him in a plain white robe. He spends a long time washing the kohl from his eyes, trying to remember who he was this morning, and if the same person is staring back at him.
Relationships: Choi San/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 62
Kudos: 338





	Mountain/Star

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. Apparently my new fandom Thing is knocking on the door and offering up A/B/O. So uh....here's this!
> 
> Big thanks to Ayesha for holding my hand through this one <33

_You said I could have anything I wanted, but_ _  
_ _I just couldn’t say it out loud._ _  
_ _Actually, you said Love, for you,_ _  
_ _is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s terrifying._ _  
_ _-Richard Siken_

  
  


Seonghwa did not grow up with an idea of what his marriage would look like. As a young Prince, there was only time to learn swordsmanship and history, languages and dancing, to sit at royal feasts and maintain proper etiquette for hours and hours. It’s not until later, after Seonghwa presents, that marriage really means anything at all.

As an Omega his marriage is inevitable, something planned. Strategic. The person he marries will ensure his father and mother can live the rest of their days comfortably. It is a strange thing to hold the throne in your hands and watch it slip away in an instant (he will still rule, of course, but it will not be his Kingdom, his land). Omegas are prized among royalty no matter the gender, and Seonghwa is strikingly handsome. He knows he is a prize for any kingdom. He doesn’t need his attendants to tell him something so obvious. 

It goes something like this: Seonghwa trains to be a King, and then Seonghwa trains to be an Omega. The shift is gradual (his father wouldn’t want to upset him, after all), but one missed sword lesson turns into two, and then a year goes by without steel in his hands. Anger is molten inside of him. There is nowhere to put it, nothing to dispel the rage at something he cannot change, but it disappears all the same. He is afraid to find out where it goes. 

Seonghwa is twenty two when he is informed through his father’s advisor that his wedding date has been set. 

“Who has His Highness selected as my mate?” Seonghwa asks him. 

He does not expect an answer nor is he owed one. Minwoo is in the doorway before he finally turns around to glance at Seonghwa over his shoulder. 

“A kingdom to the south. They have an Alpha son.” He stares into Seonghwa’s eyes for a long time before he speaks again. “His name is San.”

San like mountain, immovable. San like umbrella, a shelter. Seonghwa wonders which San he will marry.

  
  


The wedding is an extravagant affair. Families from all over the country gather at the palace. Palanquins loaded with gifts are presented to Seonghwa and his parents before being piled in the main banquet hall. Kings and Queens, sons and daughters all take their turn in front of the royal family, not just to pay their respects but to get a good look at the Omega being married off. Their eyes linger, almost leering. His skin is so itchy by the end he has to stop from scratching himself into a bloody mess. 

When Seonghwa is finally free he is led back to his chambers and into a bath. He dismisses his attendants with a wave even as they frown, wanting to protest but unable to defy him. He dunks his head under the water and listens to the sound of his heartbeat. San like mountain. San like umbrella. He’s been practicing his swordsmanship in secret with one of the stablemen, Hongjoong. He has regained much of what he lost over the past two years but it doesn’t feel like enough. Could be best an Alpha if he had to?

He comes up gasping, lungs burning in an almost pleasant way. Focus. Focus. He has been preparing for this, too, for a long time. For the Kingdom. For his mother. This is what he focuses on as he scrubs himself pink, fingers scratching the last bits of soap from his scalp. 

The robes he is dressed in are the finest he has ever worn, rich red silk that makes his skin look candlelit. The rings arrived a few days ago, thinner than he expected. Two silver bands, a flower etched into each one. They are placed on the middle finger of his left hand. He feels them acutely, heavy and cold. His attendants smudge his eyes with kohl, just enough to draw attention, and stain his lips to look just bitten. His face is still pink from the bath, gently flushed, and his hair has been freshly cut and lightened. He looks beautiful. He looks alluring. He looks terrified.

He is led into a small room, his parents seated in front of him. His mate’s parents sit across from them but he does not look at them, sinking to his knees on the red cushion and turning to face the empty space San will soon fill. The crowd coos and sings his praises, what a perfect mate he makes, how obedient, how beautiful. Later, Seonghwa will think of this and his stomach will sour. Since he presented, it has always been like this. Pleasing his parents. Playing the Omega he is still not sure he is. 

The curtains part and his mate is led into the room. Seonghwa has to fight to keep his mouth closed. 

Choi San is a good match, Seonghwa thinks bitterly. He wants to turn to his father and scream. He is small for an Alpha in the way that Seonghwa is tall for an Omega. He’s not physically imposing, but his scent floods the room, an undeniable thing that makes the back of Seonghwa’s throat itchy. He looks kind, at least. Perhaps he will let Seonghwa have a wing in his palace all to himself. Perhaps he will not do the things that are whispered about behind closed doors after every wedding. 

San kneels on the cushion and just like that they are face to face. He is handsome, strong nose and sharp jaw. His dark hair hangs just above his eyes, sets off the red silk on his body nicely. He gives Seonghwa a soft, gentle smile. He does not know how to feel.

It is so fast he doesn’t even realize it is time to bow until San leans forward. One, two, three, and then Seonghwa is married. The crowd does not cheer, but Seonghwa can hear their pleased murmurs. San stands and holds out his hand. His skin is warm where they touch. 

There is a feast that passes by in a blur, faces and names and Seonghwa’s face is sore from how long he has held a smile. His mother cups his cheek at the end, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes shine with tears. His father, too, comes up to bid them congratulations. He bows to San, who glances at him before returning the gesture. His father clasps San’s hand and tells him to write. His eyes cut over to Seonghwa. He says so many things without saying them. Do not disappoint me. Do not disgrace me. When he walks away, his footsteps echo in the nearly empty banquet hall. There is a finality to the way the door shuts behind him. San reaches out tentatively, hand hovering in the air near his shoulder, but in the end he does not touch him. Seonghwa is grateful.

When it is all over, he is led to the room he will share with his mate. San is with his parents, some last minute formality his Kingdom demands that he must take care of. Later, Seonghwa will have to kiss him. Later, he will have to do so many things. For now, his attendants undress him and leave him in a plain white robe. He spends a long time washing the kohl from his eyes, trying to remember who he was this morning, and if the same person is staring back at him.

He loses track of how much time he lays in bed before San opens the door. He’s holding a candle, flame low, and his red robes are crimson in the light. Their eyes meet and Seonghwa’s heart hammers in his chest. 

San like mountain. San like umbrella. 

“We met once when we were children,” San says. He walks further into the room and sets the candle on a low table. “Your family came to visit mine. I remember how good you were at dancing. I wanted to ask you, but I was too shy.”

The memory hits Seonghwa hard. He remembers the palace doors being open to let in the cooler air from the sea. He remembers a boy who seemed much younger than him, though his mother told him only a single summer separated them. Seonghwa was twelve years old and the boy was shy but he was capable. He held a sword like it was a part of him and Seonghwa had fervently wished in that moment that they would be married. It was Seonghwa’s first crush, a silly, inconsequential thing that all children go through on their way to adulthood.

It’s ruined now, Seonghwa thinks, somewhere between anger and hysterics. Innocent feelings of childhood should stay there, not morph into reality. San unties the sash around his waist and lets his red robes fall to the floor. His inner robe is black, a sliver of his chest visible from where it has come loose. 

“I remember,” Seonghwa says flatly. He wants to go back to his chambers, one last night before he leaves his home for the last time. Just because they are married doesn’t mean Seonghwa has to like him. There is still something cold in his chest, blue flame of anger, like the way his father spoke to San and not him. He does not know what is expected of him.

San walks to the edge of the bed. Their eyes meet again. He looks almost nervous. 

“May I, would it be alright?” San starts, pink rising to his cheeks. “Can I sleep here?”

Seonghwa expected it to just happen. Now that he has a choice he doesn’t know what to do. He looks San over top to bottom, takes in his dark hair and sharp jaw, his wiry body, the way his hands hover above the blanket.

After a few minutes San sighs. “I understand. I do not wish for you to be uncomfortable. I will sleep on the floor.”

He takes a pillow off the bed and drops it to the floor. He walks to the end of the bed and pulls out a blanket from the trunk there, shaking it out and laying it over top. He walks over to the low table and blows out the candle, and in the darkness Seonghwa crawls forward and reaches out, hand connecting with San’s wrist.

“Wait,” Seoghwa says. San is very still under him. The coldness he felt only moments ago is gone, disappeared like the flame from the candle. “I don’t mind.” He takes a breath. “You can sleep here with me.”

San places the pillow back on the bed and slips under the blankets. He’s so warm Seonghwa can feel his body heat even though they do not touch. San hasn’t touched him at all, actually. None of this has gone the way that he thought, and maybe that’s why it’s hard to feel resentment for the Alpha.

When they are settled, San turns to face him. Seonghwa’s eyes have adjusted to the dark enough that he can make out the shape of his face. 

“We are married now,” Seonghwa says softly, testing the waters. “Aren’t we supposed to —”

San makes an almost choked sound. “That is what our parents expect, I am sure.” He reaches out, tentative, and brushes their fingers together. It’s electric, tingling up his arm and into his chest. “It will happen when the time is right. For now, I would like the chance to get to know you. To court you.”

It should have happened before the wedding. Even in arrangements like this, Alphas are usually given the opportunity to court their future mate. That San was not offered it is a testament to how little Seonghwa’s father cared about anything aside from his own political power.

He is wary of San, but he wants to believe that San is a good man, a good Alpha, though those two things rarely go hand in hand. This is the rest of his life. There are two paths he can take. He can perform his duties as husband and take it no further, living out the rest of his days in solitude. Or, he can try to be happy. Facing San like this, the path is practically lantern lit.

He laces their fingers together and San sucks in a breath. The rings are warmer, now, from contact with his skin.

“I would love to see you try.”

They are still holding hands when he falls asleep.

ϑϑϑ

The weather in Namhae is similar to Jinju, and Seonghwa is relieved he will not have to bundle up in thick furs in winter, to ride on horseback buffeted by snowfall. His father was not thinking of this when he made the match, and Seonghwa refuses to give him credit for it. An alliance with the neighboring Kingdom is smart for both families, after all. That’s all this is. When they are close to the palace San stops the carriage and hops out, holding out a hand to him. 

“Shall we go together? Let me show you the grounds,” he says. There is a confidence in him that grows stronger as they near the palace, the shyness from their first night together almost like a dream. The Omega part of his brain is very attracted to it, but the rest of him bristles. He knows almost nothing about San. It would be foolish to put too much trust in him just yet. 

Seonghwa nods, taking the hand San offers him. His rings glint in the sun. They walk over to one of the horses in their party. The knight dismounts wordlessly and San takes his place, hoisting Seonghwa up with him. Like this, he has to wrap his arms around San’s waist or risk falling off. When San whistles and the horse breaks into a gallop, the choice is made for him. 

San is always warm. It’s part of being an Alpha. Late summer has turned fully to Autumn, though this far South the leaves are still mostly green, a few trees here and there dotted with reds and yellows. The wind is cool, and Seonghwa finds himself pressing into San’s back just a little, leeching some of the heat from his body. 

They ride over winding trails, passing a few marshy fields of rice. Men and women dot the paddies. There are children on the paths playing while their parents work. It’s a peaceful scene, almost staged. Here is the peace we have, the peace you are helping to keep. It sits on Seonghwa’s chest, another weight added. Up ahead is a practice field, targets for archers and straw men for sword fighting. Young men and soldiers shout as they spar. Longing blooms. Seonghwa wonders if he can train. Would San let him, if he asked?

San whistles again and their horse veers right. They approach the palace with the sea in view, and it’s breathtaking. Seonghwa can’t hide the small sound he makes, and San hums. 

“Our chambers face the sea. Even in the colder months, it is beautiful. I hope it pleases you,” San says. Seonghwa has to lean closer to hear him, and like this, San’s head turned away from the wind, they are so close together it would take nothing to kiss him. Does Seonghwa want to kiss him? Does San want him to? There’s a spike in his scent and Seonghwa fights back a shiver, eyes drifting down to his mouth as something takes hold in his gut. 

Before Seonghwa has time to really think it over, San turns back to the front, urging the horse on. They make it to the stable and he dismounts. Seonghwa follows behind him, no hand necessary to aid him. They leave the horse with a stable hand San calls Mingi, and the two of them make their way into the palace. 

“When I presented, my father began making arrangements for my ascension,” San says, slowing his steps so they can walk side by side. Seonghwa nods. “Though my parents are still living on the grounds, I am King now. Coronation was held just before the wedding.”

 _And what does that make me_? Seonghwa wants to ask, but he doesn’t. A King and his mate, ruling together as one. Is that what San intends? Does he want a partner, or does he want a pretty thing to show off at parties?

The palace is just as beautiful inside, rich woods, chests inlaid with jade and onyx. It is royal without being opulent, a gentle nod compared to the fierce shout of his own home. It suits San very much. Seonghwa wonders if it will come to suit him, too. East, West, North, and South. The palace grounds are sprawling and San shows him every inch. 

“There are some things I must see to. I will be in meetings for a few hours,” San says. They are in the courtyard between wings, the breeze gentle where it sneaks around the palace walls. 

“I think I will explore the gardens if that’s okay,” Seonghwa says, eyes drifting to the ground as hesitation sets in. 

“This is your home,” San says. The tone of his voice makes Seonghwa look up to meet his eyes. The sun is low behind him, soft orange that catches on his robes. All of him is glowing. “There is no place off limits to you. Well, I suppose you will not want to visit my parents in their wing, but you are not banned from going there.”

Seonghwa hides a smile behind his hand and nods. San gives him a soft smile before walking past him and into the main hall. He expects to feel relief, loneliness, anything really. He’s not sure what he’s feeling. None of this has gone the way he thought at all.

  
  


“If you are courting me, does that mean we will stop sleeping in the same bed?” Seonghwa asks after their evening meal. He’s sitting on a cushion outside of the main bedchamber. The sea breeze is cool this late in the evening, but the sound of the waves is soothing. He can get used to this.

San steps out onto the balcony and sits on the cushion next to him. The only light is from the stars above and the candles lit inside. Both lights together give him an otherworldly kind of beauty. _He is your husband_ , Seonghwa thinks, _you should think he is beautiful._

“Would it make you more comfortable to sleep alone?” There’s that look again. Nervous, searching. So unlike the Alpha he was only a few hours earlier. “I suppose it would be more proper. This whole wing of the palace is ours. You may have any room you like for anything you wish.”

Maybe it’s the whiplash of confidence and insecurity that makes Seonghwa want to shake him. He cannot be the husband, the _Omega_ , San expects him to be if he does not know who Choi San is. Alphas are rarely so complex, at least in his experience. The generals in his father’s army, his father himself. They are easy to read, wants laid out plain like ink on a page.

Seonghwa remembers last night, how his hesitance made San jump to his own conclusions. Or maybe it’s that San’s impatience made him nervous. Sleeping in the same bed with someone else wasn’t unpleasant. San was respectful even in sleep, though now that they are married there is not much he is not allowed to do. He’s alone, too. San is the only person he knows in the entire kingdom. Homesickness has not hit him yet, but he knows it will, that when he is aching and hollow it will be nice to have someone with him.

Not just someone, his husband. His Alpha. It’s a lot to get used to all at once.

Seonghwa meets his eyes and gives him a soft smile. “I would rather sleep with you, if you don’t mind.”

Something soft passes over San’s face, gentle. Seonghwa isn’t sure what it is. Fondness, maybe. San is...fond of him. Of course he is. As an Alpha, he has his pick of mates. He wouldn’t have agreed to marry him if he weren’t at least a little interested. “I’d like that very much.”

San’s scent is strong on the breeze, something warm and almost sweet. Before their wedding it was thick, choking, but today there is a comfort to it. Warmth that puts him at ease. Warmth that stirs at something inside of him, like gentle fingers loosening a fist.

With the moon shining above them, the sky glittering with stars, Seonghwa rests his weight on his hands and leans closer. 

“Your Highness,” he starts, biting his lip, “S-san. I was wondering, if you would permit me, could I, can I...” he takes a breath, eyes roaming San’s face. “If it’s not too forward —”

San laughs softly, shaking his head. “There’s no need for you to be nervous. You are my husband. You can ask anything of me. I will move mountains for you, if that is what it takes.”

It hits him right where he’s tender, a slap, a kick. San really _is_ fond of him. 

“I want to attend your sparring practices. Not to watch. I want to train with you.” This is the test. San like mountain. San like umbrella. What kind of Omega is he allowed to be?

San stares at him for a moment before nodding. “I remember hearing of your swordsmanship before...before. It would be an honor to train with you.”

“I’m an Omega. Doesn’t that upset you?”

“Did it upset your father?”

And that hits harder. Seonghwa has to look away, staring at the candlelight flickering over the floor. Anger and bitterness rise up like bile in his throat. It’s quiet for a long time. San doesn’t press and Seonghwa doesn’t have the words to thank him for it. When he is finally able to meet San’s eyes he smiles, taking Seonghwa’s hand and standing. 

“We should sleep. I must rise before dawn for archery practice, so you must as well.”

He’s not ready to say thank you. It’s possible San is playing nice now so that later he can do something cruel. Perhaps weapon training is allowed because he will not be attending court. Or he will take away Seonghwa’s inheritance when his father’s riches are passed to him. 

Instead of words, he leans down and presses their lips together. San makes a small, surprised sound, tightening his grip on Seonghwa’s hand. 

It is a simple, chaste thing. A press of lips and Seonghwa pulls back, face warm and heart hammering. San's fingers tremble against his. They stand there for a long time without moving, San’s hand still in his, their mouths still kissing close. Seonghwa is warm all over. He wants to kiss him again, but he tugs at San’s hand, urging him inside. 

“Shall we?” Seonghwa asks, eyes trailing up from San’s lips to meet his own. San blinks like he’s coming back to himself and nods, following him into their chamber. 

The windows are open and the moon bathes the room in a soft glow. As soon as they are settled under the blankets, San reaches for his hand. It’s comforting, the feel of his fingers becoming something familiar. 

“Have you,” San says suddenly, glancing at Seonghwa’s face before staring at something just beyond his shoulder, “Have you kissed anyone before?”

Seonghwa hums, pretends to think hard about it just to see San glance at him, wide eyed. He grins.

“Was I too bold? Are you upset with me?” he asks instead of answering. 

“ _No_ ,” San rushes out. He squeezes Seonghwa’s hand and moves closer, their legs almost touching under the blankets. “No, of course not. I am just curious.”

Seonghwa laughs softly. He wants to reach out and run his fingers through the fine strands of San’s hair, but he doesn’t. “You are the first one. The only one.”

A spike in San’s scent makes his face flush, biology revealing how pleased he is with this information. The Omega part of him is pleased, too. He bites his lip, glancing down at the space where Seonghwa’s robe slips open. “It’s the same. For me.”

As an Alpha, San has been encouraged since his presentation to seek out partners, to experiment and explore, to do whatever he likes until he is married. But he hasn’t. He hasn’t.

Seonghwa feels something dark, almost possessive, unfurl in his gut. Like a King at the head of his army, like the blessing of the gods, divine right. This is mine. _Mine_. He wonders if this is what San feels. Alpha. King. Husband. 

When San falls asleep, he tangles their legs together. Seonghwa doesn’t pull away.

ϑϑϑ

Autumn leads to winter, grey skies and shuttered windows. The sea is still just as beautiful as San promised, but harsher somehow, churning and frigid. Some mornings Seonghwa finds himself thinking of his mother, of Hongjoong, the closest person he had to a friend outside of other royal sons and daughters. It is not quite a sickness, more a longing he finds quite pointless. The times he remembers are gone now, the people he left behind not the same. The place his heart aches to go back to doesn’t really exist. On those mornings, draped in a heavy cloak and staring at the sea, he thinks about the future. He can shape this life more than the one he had before, and the thought brings him comfort.

San courts him so seriously it’s almost funny. They are already married. It’s not like Seonghwa can change his mind, but it’s nice. There are Alphas who would not go to the trouble. San leaves him gifts some mornings, slipping a delicate bracelet on his wrist after their archery lesson, a jeweled comb on the table beside their bed. He gives Seonghwa honeyed fruits and even has him fitted for leather armor. 

San meets with his advisors, and while Seonghwa is not permitted to sit in ( _yet_ , San assures him, once he is more comfortable with the Kingdom he will be able to join him), he attends smaller meetings of the court seated at San’s right. The council’s eyes are always on him, Wooyoung’s in particular, and Seonghwa does not know if he is meeting their expectations. San is respected, loved far more than he is feared. He is fair, not greedy for the wealth of his subjects the way other Kings and Queens have been. Seonghwa finds that the icy grip of mistrust slowly melting even as the weather grows colder. 

San presses a kiss to his cheek whenever he rises first, and Seonghwa enjoys it so much he grows to expect it. It’s almost reassuring. _I’m here, even when I am gone_. He is careful, _so careful_ , with Seonghwa. Gentle kisses and soft touches, always above his waist, over his robes. It’s like they are both simmering, each touch waking something inside of him he has never felt before. San is beautiful and San is kind and San is his Alpha, his husband. Desire stirs like a night blooming flower, something he can only show to the man in front of him. 

Two months into their marriage, San walks into their chamber just as Seonghwa finishes bathing, his body bare except a towel around his waist, hand shaking water from his hair. He is frozen, taking in Seonghwa’s bare skin in the candle light, something warm and dark passing over his face. Something hungry. Seonghwa shivers, acutely aware that the perfumed soaps have done little to mask his scent. 

His heart hammers against his ribs. He takes a step further into the room, making his way over to the dressing screen. San’s eyes follow him as he slips behind it. He dries his hair, his body, knowing San can see his silhouette through the screen. He slips into robes, black with red robe underneath, and when he reemerges San is standing in the same place, breaths coming in quick pants. 

His scent is so strong Seonghwa feels dizzy. Alpha. _Alpha_. He wants to kiss him. 

He whispers _please_ before he’s even aware of it, before he even really understands what he’s asking for. San sucks in a breath. His shoulders tremble as he steps closer, like he’s fighting against the current, straining at the effort. 

San’s hands burn against his waist when they touch, and Seonghwa shivers at the contact.

“I do not think this is the proper way to court,” San whispers, mouth ticked up at the corner. He pulls Seonghwa flush against him. “It is harder every day to keep from doing all the things I want to do to you.”

 _Then do them_ , Seonghwa thinks. San’s name falls from his lips, a plea, an admission. They come together at the same time, San’s hands tightening in his robes, a soft sound from his mouth. Seonghwa tangles his fingers in San’s hair and moans, his body thrumming with desire that rivals his heats. 

He loses track of time, everything narrowing down to San’s lips, San’s hands sliding into his robes, roaming over his bare skin. He follows in kind, hands wandering down the back of San’s neck and across his shoulders, down to his waist. He can feel the jut of San’s cock against his thigh. Desire turns molten, the scent of arousal making him slick enough to feel it. 

San must know, somehow. He pulls back, chest heaving. He curses under his breath, staring at their joined hips. 

“I want, I —” Seonghwa whispers. His body is fire, wild and unchecked. 

San cups his cheek and nods. “Me, too. But if we, if I...” He takes a steadying breath. “I do not want to hurt you.”

I trust you, Seonghwa almost says. In this, in San’s careful treatment of his body, he does trust him. In other ways, though, he has not made up his mind. San is kind and San is handsome but he has not seen what his anger looks like, what he will do if Seonghwa defies him. 

“I understand,” Seonghwa says, leaning back in to kiss him once, twice more. “You are too kind, Choi San, and I thank you for it.” San smiles and there is a different kind of warmth flowing through his veins. “But soon, I hope.”

San kisses him again, pressing their bodies tight together, savoring it. When he pulls away his pupils have swallowed the color in his eyes. “Soon. I promise.”

  
  
  


Two weeks after this, Seonghwa is awake before dawn, the sun barely visible on the horizon, swinging his sword at the straw target. It’s not uncommon. He goes alone some mornings, San asleep or busy with his advisors. (He’s the one pressing a kiss to San’s cheek then. Fondness blooms when San mumbles in his sleep, when he smiles). Seonghwa is dripping sweat even in the cold. 

It is with a sword in his hand that a man presses against his back, dagger at his throat. Fear is like lightning. He rams his elbow into the man and his hands only tighten on Seonghwa’s body. 

“If you do not unhand me I will spill your blood,” he growls, hand tight on his sword. Where are the guards? He should call for help, probably. He doesn’t.

The man behind him laughs darkly and squeezes his wrist, intent on making him drop the sword. Bones grate together and he hisses, but Seonghwa does not let go. He takes a breath, another, and closes his eyes.

By the time San and a handful of guards make it to the practice field, the man is on the ground, a bloody hole in his shoulder. Seonghwa looks at him, wide eyed. He tries to speak but finds he has no words. San meets his eyes and they are fierce. Anger brews like a storm.

“Your Highness,” the man on the ground says, struggling into a low bow in the dirt. “I didn’t, I wasn’t —”

San presses his boot into the back of the man’s neck, forcing his face into a pool of his own blood. 

“Save it,” San says lowly, taking his boot off the man’s neck only to kick him backward. He hits the ground with a groan. His face stretches into a sickening grin.

“Kill me if you want. There will be others. The age of Kings has ended. You and your Omega whore stand in the way of true freedom. We will not stop until your blood flows free in the streets.”

San whistles and the guards waiting a few paces behind him move forward. “Take him away. I will deal with him later.”

When the man is gone Seonghwa falls to his knees, shoulders trembling. It feels like a dream. This was an assassination. He was supposed to die. _San_ was supposed to — 

San’s hands are gentle on his face, sliding over his cheek and into his hair. He has joined him in the dirt.

“Seonghwa,” he says softly. “Look at me. Are you hurt? Did he —” Seonghwa shakes his head and San lets out a long breath. “Thank the gods you are so skilled. I don’t think the guards would have made it before he…” 

San buries his face in his neck. He is still trembling. He does not know if he will ever be able to stop, but he slides his arms around San’s back and squeezes. 

“He would have come for you. I would never let someone hurt you,” Seonghwa whispers. The words are not as shocking as he expects them to be. Slowly, the walls between them have worn away, the union between them becoming more than inked letters in his family registry. He is an Omega, and some will assume he is an easy target. There is nothing Seonghwa loves more than proving people wrong.

“They think you are the weak one,” San laughs against his neck, soft at first, and then louder. His whole body shakes with it, adrenaline leaving his body until even Seonghwa smiles around relief. “You’re better than me, you know. You always have been.” He presses a kiss to Seonghwa’s forehead, their hands tangling. San’s thumb brushes across his rings absently. “Thank you for your strength. I vow to return the favor when the time comes. You are mine, and I will not allow anyone to take you away from me.”

It is after this that Seonghwa figures it out. San _is_ a mountain. Cold and hard and impenetrable to outsiders. Merciless to those who would dare to challenge such a force of nature. But mountains protect the cities built around them, the people who pray to gods high above them. A safe haven. A comfort. Better than the flimsy oil paper of an umbrella after all.

ϑϑϑ

On the morning Seonghwa presented, he was granted attendants for his heats. It’s a very impersonal affair, Betas and Omegas using their hands and mouths to get him through what was at first a mortifying ordeal. After a year it became an annoyance, a burning desire barely sated by the ministrations of his attendants. It was all they could do. He cannot be knotted before he is married or he will be ruined, or at least that is what he hears in hushed whispers around the palace. He hears other things, too. How his Alpha will be the only one to truly sate the desire deep inside of him, how it will be the sweetest agony when it happens. How his Alpha will go through something like a heat themselves, how they will take and take and take from him until their own fever is broken. How, in time, he will learn not to hate it.

It is a week before the New Year when Seonghwa wakes up, body burning. If the sun is any indication, San is in the main chamber holding a meeting with his councilmen. There are no heat attendants anymore. Is he expected to summon his husband away from his duties? To wait for him to return as his body grows hotter and wetter? The latter, probably. He does not want to seem...well, anything really. If San wants to spend the next few days away from his duties to care for him, it will be his decision. Seonghwa remembers the downturned mouths of men traveling days to see his father only to be turned away, the agonizing heats of the Queen taking precedent. Heats have never been so painful for him, anyway.

Seonghwa stands on shaky legs and lets his robe fall to the floor, making his way into the bathing room and dropping straight into the icy water. It’s a shock in the best way, the chill making him gasp and then sigh. He can smell the sticky sweetness of his own arousal all around him, thick in the air, thick on his skin. He wonders dizzily if San could lick it off of him, if he tastes just as sweet. His cock throbs, aching between his legs and he wraps his arms around himself, shivering. When he first began going through heats, he would do this for as long as he could, distracting his body from need until he could take it no more. 

San’s meetings will be over before mid-morning. He can last that long. 

He sits in the water until he cannot feel the cold any longer and then makes his way back to the bed, toweling his skin dry hastily. He runs his hands through his hair and tugs, sparks flying down his spine. Everything feels good, and it is agony. He drifts in and out of awareness, his mind hopping dizzily from one thought to the next. San sinking teeth into the back of his neck. San leaving him in this room to take care of himself, indifferent to his mate’s need. San slipping inside of him over and over until he forgets what anything else feels like. San, San, _Alpha_. 

San’s scent wraps around him like fur, thick and warm and it should be too much with how hot he is already, but it’s everything he has ever wanted. He opens his eyes. San has shut the door of their chamber behind him, eyes wide and dark. 

“Seonghwa,” he breathes, color high on his cheeks, “You —”

There are so many things he could say. _I need you. I want you. Take me. Claim me._

Instead he shivers, pushing himself up on his elbows and gritting out, “ _Please_.”

San turns the lock on their door, a solid, weighted click, before untying the sash around his waist and letting his robes fall to the floor. It is the first time, Seonghwa realizes belatedly, they have seen each other like this. He must be a sight, flushed and shiny with sweat, his cock straining, slick pooling slowly between his legs. San is beautiful, lean and strong and trembling just a little, a barely there jump in his shoulders. He walks easily to the bed, all the confidence of an Alpha who has been prepared for this moment since presentation.

It happens all at once. San climbs onto the bed and puts Seonghwa between his thighs, cards a hand through his damp hair, and leans down to slot their mouths together. Seonghwa wraps his hands around his waist and presses their bodies flush. There are things he has never been allowed to do no matter how much he may have wanted them. San is his husband, and now that he can have anything he does not know how he should ask for it. If he is even allowed to ask for it at all.

When they break apart Seonghwa glances away, chewing his lower lip as his heart hammers against San’s chest. Surely San can feel it, too. 

“What do you need?” San asks. He runs his hand through Seonghwa’s hair once, twice, soothing. “I will give you anything.”

 _Anything_. It echoes through his heat addled mind. He glances back to San. It’s the trace of nerves he is trying very hard to keep hidden that puts Seonghwa at ease. He presses another kiss to San’s mouth and lets out a shaky breath. 

“I don’t...know...what I need. But I can tell you what I want.” He huffs a laugh, mouth twitching up at the corners. The way San stares earnestly down at him has him fighting not to kiss him again. “To put it plainly, husband, I want you to fuck me.”

San grins down at him, and for a moment the hunger is replaced by genuine fondness. Maybe even love. “I have so looked forward to this.” San presses a kiss to his mouth, his cheek, stopping at the shell of his ear. “To fucking my husband.”

Seonghwa makes a small, desperate sound and rolls his hips up, the friction making him shiver. San’s hand trails from his hair, running down his overheated skin before wrapping around his hip, encouraging him to rock his hips against him. He dips down to press sloppy, open mouthed kisses to Seonghwa’s neck. His body jolts, each touch and swipe of San’s tongue enough to get him right to the edge of orgasm. San gives his hip a final squeeze before working his way down Seonghwa’s body, lips leaving a burning trail in their wake. By the time he makes it to Seonghwa’s hip bone he is trembling, pleasure hovering between too much and not quite enough. 

He glances up at him through his lashes, nosing closer to Seonghwa’s aching cock. A desperate, filthy moan slips from his mouth. The scent of San’s arousal wraps around him, warm and steadying and Alpha. 

“Have your attendants done this before?” San asks, breath ghosting over the head of his cock. 

Seonghwa nods weakly, lip between his teeth. “Yes.”

San’s eyes are dark, hungry and something else, too. Something just a little darker. Territorial, maybe. _Mine_. He expects him to say something else, but he swallows Seonghwa’s cock to the base and he loses the ability to speak. He gasps, hands flying to San’s dark hair, tangling in the strands while he fights the desire to buck into the back of his throat. His breaths shake, desire coiling tight. San glances up at him again, eyes slitted, his tongue licking broad, lazy strokes against his shaft. 

“I’m going to —” Seonghwa whispers. 

San bobs his head, tongues across the head and Seonghwa comes with a moan, slick coating his thighs. San does not pull away, swallowing his release greedily, like it is the only thing he has ever wanted to do.

When he pulls back his eyes are hazy, scent kicked into overdrive. He is hard and heavy where Seonghwa can see him, but he pays himself no mind. San licks his lips and trails two fingers across Seonghwa’s inner thigh, gathering slick until it drips from his fingers. Color rises to Seonghwa’s cheeks, his cock already stirring back to life. 

“And have your attendants done this?” San asks, slipping both fingers inside of him easily. Seonghwa moans, grinding his body down against the friction. 

“Y-yes, but not...often,” Seonghwa pants out. 

San builds to a steady rhythm, feeling him out like he is learning him, crooking his fingers and searching patiently. He glides across that spot inside him and Seonghwa’s whole body jerks. He makes a sound somewhere between a whine and a moan and San hums appreciatively. 

“Have they done this, I wonder.”

San moves lower, plants a kiss to Seonghwa’s slick coated thigh, lower still until his tongue is sliding inside of him next to his fingers. Stars color his vision, pleasure so hot it nearly burns him. 

“ _Alpha_ ,” Seonghwa moans. He has never felt so desperate for release. “ _Please_.”

San reaches up with his other hand and strokes Seonghwa’s straining cock. He moves back and slips a third finger inside him at the same time. His mouth gleams in the low light, and Seonghwa has to look at the ceiling to keep from coming on the spot. 

“You did not answer me,” San says, his voice rumbling from deep inside of him. He presses his fingers incessantly on that spot. Seonghwa’s whole body shudders, pleasure a whip, a knife to the heart. 

“N-no,” Seonghwa grits out, hips canting into San’s fist. “Only, only you.”

San’s hands move faster. He lets out a low, pleased sound, the scent of his arousal hitting Seonghwa all over again. “Good.”

San moves between his legs, tongue back to work next to his fingers, each thrust a jolt to his oversensitive body. Every breath is a moan, a gasp. Seonghwa does not realize he is saying San’s name until he comes and the sound sticks in his throat, a sudden silence as his body coils tight and releases. 

San works him through it, slick making everything sound obscene but he pays it no mind. When he comes up he presses a kiss to Seonghwa’s thigh. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and wraps the other around his cock, hissing at the contact.

“How are you feeling?” San asks. Seonghwa blinks up at him. Need still claws at his insides, hunger barely quenched by his husband’s hands. 

“I need,” Seonghwa starts, twisting his fingers in the sheets as he takes a breath. “More. I need you, your —”

San pulls Seonghwa closer, tugging him down the bed by his thighs. He lets out a small, needy sound. There is strength in the Alpha and he wants to feel it. All he can think about is San’s knot, San’s hands on him. _Alpha. Alpha_.

“Shh,” San says, pressing the head of his cock to Seonghwa’s entrance. “I’m here. I’m here.” He reaches down and runs his hand through Seonghwa’s damp hair, cupping his cheek. Seonghwa leans into the touch. “Is this what you want?”

Seonghwa nods, blinking again only to realize his lashes are clumped with desperate tears. 

“Please, Alpha. Mark me, claim me take me, _knot me_ —”

San pushes inside of him in one smooth, easy thrust, and Seonghwa nearly screams. It feels better than good, filling him up in a way that feels so right, like nothing he has ever felt before. When he bottoms out, San presses their bodies together, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, tongue slipping inside to curl around his own. He can taste himself, a lingering sweetness on San’s tongue that makes him hot all over. 

San starts to move, a slow thrust at first, testing. Seonghwa moans into his mouth and squeezes him between his knees, urging him on. A slow thrust again. And again. He’s teasing him.

“Please,” Seonghwa whines when they break apart. “I need —”

San’s chest rumbles against his, a sound between a moan and a growl slipping from his mouth. 

“You are so beautiful,” San murmurs next to his ear, words tingling through his whole body. “You smell so good. Perfect. You are so good for me, husband.”

San grinds into him. He’s deep like this, the head of his cock pressing against that spot inside him. His body is so sensitive Seonghwa nearly shouts. 

“I want to knot you over and over. I want to take your mouth. I want everything. Will you give it to me?”

Seonghwa keens, working his hips against San, urging him faster. Desperation is a silk ribbon squeezing his heart. He wants. He needs. 

“I’m yours,” Seonghwa says between hitched breaths, “Everything. Yours.”

San shudders and fucks into him faster. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes into him. Orgasm laps at him, warm under his navel. He meets San’s eyes and bites his lip. 

“ _You’re mine_ ,” San whispers like a spell, like something that cannot be spoken any louder. He props his weight on his hands, hips stuttering as Seonghwa nods over and over. 

“Yes, yours,” Seonghwa pants. “I’m going to —”

San takes his cock in his hand and strokes him once, twice, grinding deeply into him and he comes with a shout. San smears the mess into his skin, across his stomach and up to his chest. His eyes are dark and hungry. Seonghwa wants to be consumed. 

“Please,” Seonghwa whispers. San runs a sticky hand through his own hair and fucks into him harder, chasing his own release. He can feel his knot starting to form, a pleasant stretch that makes him shiver and arch up against his chest. 

“Come for me, husband,” Seonghwa gasps, pulling San down into a hot, open mouthed kiss.

San comes, moans muffled against Seonghwa’s mouth, hips stuttering as his knot joins them together. Seonghwa feels dizzy from it, a wash of calm, a breath of air, everything and then more. He takes his time licking into San’s mouth, savoring the clarity, the feeling of their naked bodies. 

“You are _mine_ ,” San growls when they break apart, hands holding Seonghwa’s waist as he grinds his knot into him. He has never been so sated and so aroused at once. He comes again just from this, and San kisses his cheeks, the corner of his mouth. 

He rolls onto his side and Seonghwa turns to mirror him. They will be like this until...well, Seonghwa does not know how long it will take. It’s nice, though. Low tide, a blessed relief from the raging current of his heat. 

“How long are your heats, usually?” San asks him. His fingers trace his stomach, across ribs, come to a stop over his heart. 

“Once, only two days. Another time, a week.” Seonghwa bites his lip, glancing down at San’s chest. “My attendants assured me it would, that when I, with you.” It feels silly to be so flustered. San is _inside_ of him for gods sake. He takes a breath and meets San’s eyes again. “My heats will stabilize with my Alpha’s knot. I wish I had a more definite answer for you.”

San kisses the tip of his nose and Seonghwa can’t help but wrinkle it in response. “This is your first heat as my husband. I will stay with you until it breaks, however long that may be. I cannot promise it will always be like this, but we will take the future as it comes.”

Love. Seonghwa has never been in love, but he imagines it is not quite as dramatic as the romances he’s seen acted out in theater. Not falling. No, love is more gentle, more patient than that. A willing surrender.

San has loved him for quite some time. Seonghwa can see it plainly now, how every day fondness has bloomed into something more, something bigger. He leans in and kisses him, lifts his hands to cup his face. When they break apart San’s cheeks are flushed.

He wants to say it so badly. It’s almost more consuming than his heat, but there is doubt too. If he says it now, will San just think it some feverish product of his heat? Will he be happy? 

“You are too good to me, husband,” Seonghwa says instead, grinning as San’s flush spreads to his ears. “How can I repay your kindness?” 

Later, he will tell San that he is in love with him. Later, they will do so many things.

  
  


The next four days pass by in a haze. It is not that Seonghwa doesn’t remember, it’s more that it blends together. San’s hands and San’s mouth and San’s knot. Baths and clean linens and dirty linens. Eating on the balcony and licking sugar from San’s skin. He knows it’s over when San knots him from behind and he winds his hands around San’s back to hold himself up, panting and finally, _finally_ spent. 

The two of them sleep almost a full day. Seonghwa wakes up, clean but naked, with San’s leg thrown over his thighs and head pillowed on his chest. He looks younger in sleep, the year between them more obvious. In another life, San would call him hyung. Instead, he calls him husband, and maybe that is better.

Seonghwa reaches down and runs his fingers through San’s hair. He stirs under the touch, cracking an eye open but otherwise staying still, content to let Seonghwa touch him.

“How are you feeling?” San asks after a moment. He scrubs at his face and blinks, lifting his head so they are eye to eye. 

Seonghwa nearly rolls his eyes, exasperation mixed with fondness. “Fine. A little restless, perhaps. It will be nice to go to practice.”

San nods, a small smile on his face. “Indeed. A week of normalcy.”

A week? Seonghwa furrows his brow, trying to think back on what they have to do in a weeks’ time. Has he forgotten something important? He is quiet for so long that San laughs, reaching up to smooth the crease away from his forehead. 

“My rut,” San says simply. “I am due in a weeks’ time. I have been meaning to tell you, but we have been a bit busy.”

Ah. Seonghwa was afraid of this even just a few days ago, but now, after spending a heat with San, he thinks that even in the haze of hormones there is nothing San would do to make him suffer. 

“How long is it?” Seonghwa asks. His hand resumes sliding through San’s hair. His eyes close for a moment and he hums. 

“Three days. Though my hope is we will have our cycles at the same time,” San says around a yawn. He snuggles closer to Seonghwa, tangling their legs together. “It will not happen right away, I’m afraid. If you think it will be too much, I can move to another wing for a few days.”

“ _No_ ,” Seonghwa rushes out, sitting up so fast San’s head lands on his thigh. “No, I. I want to help you when the time comes. My body is not so weak.”

“Oh?” San asks, sly grin on his face. “So you’re saying that if I wanted to take you now, I could.”

Seonghwa’s whole body is warm, his cock stirring at the words. It usually takes some time for desire to return after his heat has broken, but San is desire made flesh, and Seonghwa is only human. 

“You would not treat me so roughly that I could not handle it,” Seonghwa says. He slides back down the bed and San moves up to meet him. “I think I could never grow tired of you.”

The kiss is like lightning, tingling and warm through his whole body. San’s lips and San’s tongue and San’s hands curling around his waist. When they break apart San rolls onto his back and pulls Seonghwa on top of him. 

“It’s the same for me,” San says. The way he stares up at Seonghwa unlocks something inside of him. “You can always take me instead. It will require a bit more work. If you’re up for it.”

Seonghwa almost says it then. I love you. An Alpha offering himself like this. Seonghwa is sure he’s dreaming. He slips his hand between them and circles it around San’s cock. 

“Would you like me to fuck you?” 

He has never felt like this before. Staring down at San makes him feel ravenous.

San grins. “Yes, very much.” His hands wander up Seonghwa’s thighs. “But we will have to settle for something quick. We have been gone nearly a week. The Kingdom needs us.”

It’s not the first time San has spoken like this, including him in the royal Us. It hits him where he’s tender every time. He strokes San faster, running his other hand up to his chest. San arches into the touch, eyes dark. 

“Something quick, then.”

ϑϑϑ

Winter fades into spring, the days longer and warmer. Seonghwa’s life falls into a comfortable routine. Weapons practice. Attending council meetings. San leaves Seonghwa in charge of the smaller disputes, letting his judgement stand as law with any dissenters being met with hard, uncompromising authority. 

Wooyoung is San’s closest advisor. They are the same age (a year younger than Seonghwa. It stung at first. How could his father match him with a _younger_ Alpha?), and while Wooyoung is not a member of the royal family by blood he might as well be from his years of friendship with San. More than pleasing his parents, Seonghwa has hoped since their first meeting that he would be able to meet Wooyoung’s expectations. He is always cordial, of course, but Wooyoung is hard to read. Seonghwa cannot tell if he is liked or hated, tolerated or resented.

After his last civil dispute of the day (men who are far too old for it arguing over a decades old agreement to wed their first born Omega to Alpha. He rules that it cannot apply to grandchildren. One man sulks and another man cheers and Seonghwa feels like he has done something good), Wooyoung lingers behind in the throne room. San has walked ahead, intent on surveying the newest batch of guards. 

“He’s going to fight them, you know,” Wooyoung says, an exasperated but fond smile on his face. 

Seonghwa runs a hand through his hair and returns the smile. “Yes. He will win, too. And not because they are being careful with him.”

Wooyoung nods, and for a moment things feel uneasy. He wonders if Wooyoung feels it too, the strange tenseness between them. 

“Your Highness, may I accompany you to the practice field?”

It catches Seonghwa by surprise, and he finds himself nodding before he has time to think about it. Wooyoung is San’s friend. There are things they know about each other, insights that he can only hope to have after decades with his husband. Maybe Wooyoung will never be that close to him, but they can at least be genuinely friendly with each other.

It’s quiet at first, Seonghwa taking in the tiny buds on the trees, plum blossoms starting to unfurl in the gentle spring warmth. Soon, the garden will be full of sweetly scented flowers. He glances to the side to see Wooyoung’s eyes on him, curious but hesitant. 

“You may speak freely,” Seoghwa says softly. 

Wooyoung’s eyes widen but he nods.

“I thought you would be cruel to him, at first,” Wooyoung says. He looks ahead at the path they walk, chewing on his lip for a moment before continuing. “You must know your own reputation.” He meets Seonghwa’s eyes. “Ice Prince Park Seonghwa. Who could ever please an Omega like that?”

It makes him doubt that Wooyoung was ever worried about speaking freely. It’s the thing that San admires most about him, the easy honesty he gives, uncensored in spite of their differences in station. That he should be exempt from such treatment is laughable. 

Seonghwa lets out a short laugh. “That you think an Omega would be allowed to be cruel to any Alpha means that you are neither, right?”

Wooyoung has a scent, noticeable for a Beta but not unpleasant. Seonghwa has not spoken to him alone like this, but he had guessed since the beginning. San is a unique Alpha. It makes sense his closest friend would be unique as well. 

Wooyoung nods. “Quite right, Your Highness.” They walk in silence for some time before Wooyung stops, turning to face him. “You are good for him. I wanted to tell you that.”

He cannot say that he has hoped Wooyoung would like him. He cannot say that rumors used to fly about him, too, about how he was in love with a Prince who would soon be King, that San would give up everything for him if he asked. He cannot say that sometimes San and Wooyoung look at each other across the throne room and Seonghwa is sure he will never love anyone the way they love each other. 

Instead, he says, “I was so afraid, at first. San is not like any Alpha I have ever met. Becoming his husband is the best thing that could have come from marriage.”

Wooyoung gives him a look then, something understanding. He reaches out and lays his hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder. “You love him.” Seonghwa tenses and Wooyoung grins. “You love him.” Seonghwa feels warm all over. “You love him. Of course you do. How could anyone not love him?”

Seonghwa buries his face in his hands. Wooyung laughs, but not with any kind of malice. 

“He loves you too, you know,” Wooyoung continues once he’s caught his breath. “If you have not told him I hope you will soon.”

Seonghwa lets his hands fall away from his face and Wooyoung takes his hand off his shoulder. He is still very hard to read, but Seonghwa thinks with time, he might be able to master it. 

“I hope I can count on your discretion until I do,” Seonghwa says. Wooyoung claps him on the shoulder, hard this time, before walking ahead of him toward the practice field.

“Of course you can,” he says softly.

Seonghwa feels a little lighter as he follows.

  
  


That night, San pulls him into the bath and they spend a long time soaking, Seonghwa’s back to San’s chest. He rubs the tension from Seonghwa’s shoulders with strong, steady fingers. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one servicing you, my King?” Seonghwa sighs, leaning his head back against San’s shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he can see him grinning. 

San’s hands move lower, splaying across his chest. “You had a long day. Archery, court —” 

“And _you_ ,” Seonghwa interrupts, reaching up to rub softly at the back of San’s neck, “spent most of the afternoon knocking soldiers into the dirt.” He squeezes the tight muscle under his hand. “Switch. Let me take care of you.”

San sighs but relents, letting Seonghwa move to the other side of the tub before settling against him. He works the knots from San’s shoulders, the warm water making the slide easy. Something stirs in him with each touch. Want and need, desire and longing. San, impenetrable mountain who lets only one man find shelter.

He does not think about it. He turns San around to face him, says _I love you_ , and presses their lips together. San makes a noise that almost sounds like a gasp. He keeps the kiss short, and when they break apart San reaches out to cup his face between his hands.

“ _What did you say?_ ” San whispers, his eyes frantically searching Seonghwa’s face.

“I said that I love you, Choi San.” Seonghwa tangles his hands in the damp strands of hair at the back of his neck. “We did not choose to marry each other, but I am glad it was you. I love you.”

San rushes forward and kisses him, crawling into Seonghwa’s lap and pressing as much of their bodies together as he can. It is fervent, much more rushed than Seonghwa’s heat, like San cannot contain himself. It’s one of the most erotic things he has ever experienced. 

“Choi Seonghwa,” San says. He does not say his name like this often. It makes him shiver. “I love you. I have loved you for a long time.” Their foreheads are touching, San rubbing his nose against his slowly. “I resigned myself to loving alone. If you did not hate me, that would be enough. I never considered that you, that we could —”

Seonghwa laughs softly, pressing a kiss to San’s cheek, the corner of his mouth. “You are a good man, San. A good Alpha. A better King. How could I be with you in marriage and not fall in love with you?”

San kisses him deeper, reaching between them to take them both in his hand. The slide is easy, Seonghwa already hard from touching his husband earlier. He moans into San’s mouth, tightening his hands in his hair. 

“Say it again,” San says when they break apart, panting against his mouth. His cheeks are flushed, and for a moment Seonghwa imagines San going into heat. A jolt of white hot pleasure courses through him.

“I love you,” he pants, hips jerking. San tightens his hand, drags his fingers across the head of his cock. Seonghwa kisses him, filthy and desperate, tongue tracing San’s own. San’s cock is throbbing next to his, a velvet hardness. He untangles his hand and reaches down to wrap his hand around San’s, to touch them both. 

San groans, hips twitching. “God. I love you,” San says. It should not push him as close to the edge as it does, but he thrusts forward, nearly erratic. 

They lock eyes. San nods, lip between his teeth. Seonghwa can tell he’s close. He moves their hands faster, desperate more for his husband’s release than his own. _Please_ , he mouths. _Please_.

San takes a shaky breath, hips stuttering, surging forward to capture Seonghwa’s mouth again as he comes. It’s the feel of his knot against Seonghwa’s cock that sends him over the edge, moaning into his mouth as he comes too, both of them shaking through it together. 

After another bath is drawn, strictly to get them clean, they lay in bed. It’s still cool but they have a window open to let in the sea air. San lays his head on Seonghwa’s chest, a leg thrown carelessly across his thighs. In the months of their marriage he has revealed himself to be quite fond of cuddling. It’s endearing. 

“I always wanted it to be you,” San says softly. Seonghwa looks down to meet his eyes. “Ever since I first saw you. I hoped that, if I were an Alpha you would be Omega.” His cheeks are dusted pink in the candle light. “Or...the other way. It was a silly childhood wish. I never dreamed we would be married, but I always wished for it.”

 _So you, too_ , Seonghwa thinks dizzily. That silly, childhood crush. Something they shared before they even knew the other. He presses a kiss to San’s hair, love coursing strong and steady through him, beating in time with his heart. 

“It’s the same for me,” Seonghwa says. “You hear a lot of stories as an Omega. You are told that you must bear whatever your Alpha wishes, because that is your place. There were many times in the beginning I braced myself for harshness. Instead, I got you. You are my husband. You are my love. I would not want it to be anyone else.”

San peppers his chest with kisses. They have not been married a full year yet but Seonghwa cannot imagine spending the rest of his life in any other way. When San falls asleep it is with his head buried in the crook of Seonghwa’s neck. The breeze carries with it the sound of the sea. It mirrors the rise and fall of San’s chest, and this is what lulls Seonghwa into sleep.

Tomorrow, he will ask San to take the horses down to the beach. Tomorrow, he will be able to do so many things. A comfort. A thrill. He cannot wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can be married and still yearn, actually. I hope you enjoyed this! It was a lot of fun to work on <33
> 
> I have yet to find an Ateez ship I don't like, but Sanhwa has built a home in my brain so here we are.
> 
> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/woncheoling) // [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/tsukkitaeil)


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